


hot water

by ghosthunter



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Voyeurism, ass eatin' szn, hot tub orgies, i should not have access to the kinkmeme, literally they're all fuckin'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-07 15:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18413141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosthunter/pseuds/ghosthunter
Summary: No one tells Carl the rules of the jacuzzi.





	hot water

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://thesinbin.dreamwidth.org/3790.html?thread=5209806#cmt5209806) kinkmeme prompt. not quite as poly as i intended but bruh the idea is they're all just doin' it in every possible configuration. breathe it in.
> 
> thanks to jarka for beta as usual.

No one tells Carl the rules of the jacuzzi.

He’s not sure there are actual rules, so much as there are unspoken guidelines, like so much of hockey. Never step on the logo, all the rules everyone has for putting money on the board. Don’t fight a guy who doesn’t agree to a fight. Carl doesn’t know any rules regarding jacuzzis.

There are two, in the Capitals’ locker room. One seems to be used for the typical things jacuzzis are used for. Loosening tight muscles, heat therapy. The other one is ostensibly used for therapy as well, but Carl quickly learns that it’s not quite the same kind of therapy as he’d typically expect.

The first time he goes in, looking to relax aching muscles, he picks the wrong one. He walks into the one further from the actual room, expecting it to be more quiet, and instead finds his new captain draped over the edge, towel spread beneath him and his head pillowed on his arms. 

The lower half of his legs are still in the tub, but his ass is in the air, cheeks spread apart by Orlov’s hands, Orlov’s face buried between. Ovechkin doesn’t seem to notice him, and neither does Orlov, and Carl makes a break for it before either of them do.

He doesn’t say anything, because it feels like something he wasn’t supposed to see. If the team knows, they’ve never let on, and he’s new here, besides. He wants to ask Jensen if he knows anything, but he knows Jensen even less than he knows anyone else on the team, except for Nicke, and - well, he’s been in jacuzzis with Nicke, at Worlds, at the Olympics, and he feels like maybe somehow he would have figured this out.

Maybe Nicke doesn’t know?

The jacuzzis in the locker room seem like a pretty public place to be eating ass, so maybe it’s an open secret, whatever Orlov and Ovechkin are doing, and everyone just pretends it isn’t happening.

Either way, the second jacuzzi is empty and he goes there, instead.

But the next time he walks in on something, it’s harder to write off as just some secret thing between two people, because it’s not the same two people. This time, it’s Vrana astride Kempny’s lap, his hips rolling slow and rhythmic. Carl can see both of Vrana’s hands, but neither of Kempny’s. Vrana is moaning into Kempny’s mouth.

Carl leaves. Carl leaves, and has to take a moment just inside the door of the other jacuzzi room to adjust himself. He’s not made of stone. He can recognize that his teammates are good looking guys. He can recognize that what he’s just seen is pretty hot. He’s also just been traded to a team that he’s been trained to hate that he’s coming to enjoy being on and - now he’s finding out that all of his teammates are fucking each other in the jacuzzi?

This never would have happened on the Penguins.

The third time, maybe he’s trying to catch someone in the act. The third time, maybe he lingers just a little longer to see what he’s able to see.

He sees a lot.

He sees Burakovsky breathing hard, open mouthed as Wilson presses his face down against the towel spread over the side of the tub. Wilson’s big, but he doesn’t quite cover all of Burakovsky’s body, and Burakovsky is pushing back against Tom as he tries to take him deeper, breathing hard through his mouth, eyes closed.

But it’s not just Burakovsky and Wilson. It’s Carlson and Oshie, on an adjacent bench, pulling hard on each other’s hair as they kiss. Carl can’t see what they’re doing below the rim of the tub.

He’s about to turn away when he feels a hand on his shoulder, sliding from his shoulder down to grip around his upper arm. Carl turns, startled, to see Nicke standing there.

“No one would say no if you wanted to slip in,” Nicke says, and smirks at him.

“Uh,” Carl says.

“I’ll go with you, if you don’t want to interrupt. Ease you in,” Nicke suggests.

“The first time - the first time I saw - I thought it was just - “ Carl stutters out. Nicke is looking at him, his hand still holding onto Carl’s arm.

“You don’t have to join in, if you’re not interested,” Nicke says. “Not everyone does. But it keeps the boys loose. Keeps the boys happy.”

“Sure,” Carl says, trying to keep his voice even.

“No one does anything they don’t want to,” Nicke says. His fingers touch Carl’s chin, tip Carl’s face up until they meet eyes. “But you want to.”

Carl swallows hard.

“What if it’s just me?” Nicke asks.

“What do you mean?” Carl asks.

“If it were just me and you, all alone in there,” Nicke says, and he reaches up, pushes a stray strand of hair back behind Carl’s ear. “Would you want it then?”

Carl feels like he forgets how to breathe. He certainly forgets how to say words. He just stands there, lips parted, until Nicke closes the space between them, and covers Carl’s mouth with his.

He feels a rushing in his ears.

“Would you want it then?” Nicke repeats.

Carl makes a sound that passes for “yeah,” in some countries. There’s a muffled shout behind them as someone comes - Carl doesn’t know who, doesn’t care - and Nicke pulls back.

“Next game,” he says, and leaves Carl there, flushed and hard and wanting.

 

 

Carl makes it through the next game by just not thinking about it. He thinks about it plenty in the time between that night outside the jacuzzi and the game, the way Nicke’s mouth felt against his, what Nicke’s mouth would feel like on other parts of his body, what Nicke’s hands would feel like on his body. He’d love to say he doesn’t think about the sounds Andre made as Tom fucked him against the side of the tub or the way TJ’s hair clung sweaty to his face, but he has.

By the time he’s showered off after the game and gotten to the jacuzzi room, he’s mostly hard. He slides into the tub and lets the heat soak into his bones, lets his hair stick to his forehead and cheeks and the back and sides of his neck. He thinks about Nicke, about Nicke asking him if he wants it, and he wraps his hand loose around his dick.

He leans his head back, closes his eyes, one leg propped up on the bench across from him. He’s truly starting to get into his imagination about jerking off when Nicke speaks.

“You couldn’t wait for me?” Nicke asks him. Carl opens his eyes slowly, blinking up at Nicke from where his head is leaned back against the side of the tub.

“No,” Carl says, drawling the word out slowly. Nicke splashes down into the water next to him, graceless, and shoves his hands into Carl’s hair, kissing him roughly.

Carl sighs underneath him, lets Nicke reach below the water and pull Carl’s hand away from his cock. Nicke pins that hand against the fiberglass of the tub, his fingers locked through Carl’s. His mouth is hot and wet and tastes like mouthguard and protein shake.

And Nicke isn’t even touching his dick, just kissing him, pushing him back against the side of the tub. Carl’s cock aches, but he leans into Nicke’s mouth anyway, licking up.

“Eager,” Nicke says. Carl makes some kind of noise into Nicke’s mouth, an agreement, begging, whatever. He wants a hand back on his cock.

He moves his free hand to wrap around Nicke’s cock. This time it’s Nicke who makes a noise against Carl’s mouth, and finally he has leverage. He doesn’t think he’s ever given a handjob in a jacuzzi before, but it’s not like it’s any different than jerking himself off in the shower. 

He knows enough to know that he’s not getting fucked in the jacuzzi unless Nicke turns him over the side, the way Tom did Andre, but Nicke can still jerk him off.

“Nicke,” he says, and Nicke laughs, thrusting his hips up into Carl’s hand. He lets go of Carl’s other hand and reaches for Carl’s cock.

They jerk each other off, sweaty and pressed together, mouths and skin sliding with sweat as they rut against each other, hands working at each others’ cocks. Carl’s not proud of the sound he makes when he comes, but he’s spent so much time thinking about Nicke’s hands on him that he doesn’t care.

Nicke comes in his hand with a sigh, fingers petting through Carl’s hair, matted with sweat and damp from the rinse in the shower.

“Come home with me,” Carl says to him.

“Okay,” Nicke says, easy.

Nicke doesn’t untangle his fingers from Carl’s hair, doesn’t stop kissing him. Nicke kisses him until the heat starts to make Carl feel dizzy, overwhelmed.

“I need to get out,” Carl finally says. He can feel his body flushed with the heat as he pulls away from Nicke and drags himself up and out of the water.

“I’ll meet you at yours,” Nicke calls after him as he’s leaving.

Nicke’s true to his word, and Carl sees Nicke pull into a space near his when he parks at the apartment building they’ve moved him into for the few months he’ll likely be in DC. Nicke follows him in, the apartment sparsely decorated with only the necessities Carl needs.

Carl doesn’t expect Nicke to fuck him, any more than he expected Nicke to agree when Carl invited him back. They undress in Carl’s pristine, barren apartment in his cool, quiet bedroom. They strip out of their suits and tumble into Carl’s sheets, cold and clean beneath their skin, a contrast sharp to the jacuzzi.

Nicke tangles his fingers in Carl’s hair again, kissing him with the sheets pulled up around them and the lights turned off. The streetlights glint off Nicke’s hair when Carl pushes it back behind his ears, and Nicke presses a thigh between Carl’s.

Carl likes DC, he thinks, as Nicke kisses him. He wouldn’t mind staying.

**Author's Note:**

> on twitter @notedgoon


End file.
